Poetry Please: June 14

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This week, we have two poems, by Jan Parkin and Wilf Daniells.


Put the lid back on the toothpaste

Said a mother to her son

I’ve had enough of moving your stuff

And it is no longer fun

The dinner plates in your bedroom

The remains of last night’s stew

It’s a wonder your not sickly

With all the bugs in you.

I won’t tell you no more my boy

It really is so vile

I doubt you’ll find a girlfriend

To walk you up the aisle

So let’s make an agreement

To tackle it bit by bit

So it’s a place of cleanliness

And not a big cesspit.


I struggle through the day and drag

My heavy bones from place to place

With muscles that no longer have the strength

To overcome their fearful weight nor lift the load

Or ease the pain of stiffened joints

My head bows low

My back is like a burning fire

Between stone shoulders,

Lying down is bliss compared to this

But still more like a living death

Perhaps, who knows, this is a dying life

I must endure with fortitude until the end,

How long it does go on I cannot say

Maybe I will at most, last, for one more day

I dare not sleep for death could creep

Into my bed and then my friends would weep

And there would be such sorrow

As I didn’t see tomorrow.